


Mistaken Identity

by GoodJanet



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5632801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing Leia again is both a blessing and a reminder of what they once had. Han decides the best way to handle this is to head to the cantina on base and get completely drunk. Somewhere between his sixth and seventh drink, he gets the idea to go talk to her or maybe do something more. He ends up at Rey’s lodgings instead, and, despite her best efforts to correct him, he insists on calling her Leia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistaken Identity

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, General Solo?” the tentacled bartender asks.

Han looks up from his drink with a sneer. He sits himself up to his full height with little grace and points his finger, shoving it into what Han approximates as his shoulder.

“Listen here, buddy. Do I look like a general to you? Are my credits no good here or something?”

The bartender rolls all of his eyes and signals for security.

“General Solo, we have enough trouble going on as it is, if you haven't noticed. We don’t want any more here. My friends here are going to help you back to your quarters now.”

Han stands on unsteady feet.

“Oh, is that so?”

Two large beings grasp his biceps. He swallows. Okay, so maybe arguing with these guys _wasn’t_ such a good idea.

“Fellas, fellas, you know I didn’t mean any harm,” he says, all slow and easy charm. Even when drunk, he knew how to get himself out of trouble. It was his specialty. “I didn’t mean to start anything.”

The bartender rolls his eyes again, and the security guards release him. He rubs his upper arm, sure there will be bruises in the morning.

“Please go back to your quarters, General.”

Han frowns, brows furrowing.

“I’m goin’,” he says, turning towards the door. He mutters to himself as he walks out, “Goin’ to your mother’s house, that’s where. Telling me where to go. Blew up the freaking Death Star, but they can’t sell me a drink. No, sir.”

He doesn’t even pay that much attention to where his feet are taking him, lost in his own rambling thoughts.

“Bet even Leia’d feel sorry enough to give me a drink. Princess’d never admit, but she’s always got something. Hidden in those hairdos of hers, probably. Should go over there and tell ‘er how they treat war heroes around here…”

Suddenly, he finds himself at her door, wondering what exactly he’s going to say.

“I’ll wing it!” he confidently tells the door before knocking loudly.

A confused and startled Rey opens the door.

“Captain Solo, is everything alright?” she asks, pulling her robe more tightly to herself, unused to being seen so unclothed.

“Oh, real funny, Princess. After all we’ve been through, you’re gonna pull  _that_ on me?”

Rey’s brows furrow as she lets go of her door to step closer to Han. She can quickly tell that he’s been drinking something strong. She puts a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Han, we should get you back to your bunk.”

He shoves her hand off.

“Why does everyone keep telling me where to go!?” he shouts.

Rey’s eyes widen, hoping people don’t come out to investigate. It would look all wrong if they were seen like this. It would fuel the scuttlebutts for weeks. Still, Han continues.

“Maybe I’m sick and tired of being in my bunk alone. Maybe I already know exactly where I want to go! Can’t a man spend the night in the arms of his wife?”

That’s when it hits her. He’s under the impression that she’s _Leia_.

“Han,” she says, softly. “Please. Lower your voice.”

“Will you let me come inside? I’ve got all night and nothing to do, your Worshipfulness.”

With little choice but to agree, she nods, ushering him inside and again hoping that no one had seen, or, more accurately, heard. She goes to her little stove for tea to help wake her up, and behind her, she hears Han pull out a chair and heavily drop his feet on her tabletop. Once she’s done pouring her tea, she takes the chair across from him.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” Rey begins.

Han laughs, but there is no joy in it. The sound makes Rey’s heart hurt.

“And which mistake are you referring to this time?”

“I’m not who you think I am. I’m not—”

“Save it,” Han interrupts with a raised hand. He slides his feet off the table to face her properly. “I really don’t feel like having that argument again. You’ve made it quite clear that you’re not the little princess infatuated with the big, bad smuggler anymore.”

“No! That’s not what I was going to say,” says Rey, desperate. She grabs his hands in an effort to make him focus on her words. “I’m not your wife.”

If looks could kill, Rey knows she’d be dead. The mix of pain and hurt and rage twists his features until she is quickly pulling her hands off of him.

“You always knew how to twist the knife, didn’t you? Always had to have the last word. Always had to make sure at least one of us was completely broken by the end. Does it feel good to rub sand in my wounds, Leia?”

He’s slurring a little, but that doesn’t make his words any less painful. Rey finds herself blinking back tears. She shouldn’t be hearing things like this. She shouldn’t know these things. She needs to get Han out of here before he says something else.

“Please, you have to listen,” she says, wiping her eyes. “This has to stop.”

She lets out a sob before she can continue. It was just so sad. Leia and Han were the stuff of legends. A deep and tumultuous romance through the stars. There was so much pain and suffering happening to her friends. And hearing all these bitter truths was more than she could bear.

“Leia,” Han says, voice going soft. He stands and comes to her side of the table before kneeling down and putting his arms around her. Rey can’t help it; she immediately reciprocates. “I never meant to hurt you.”

She raises a hand and slowly, hesitantly strokes his hair. He lets out a long, warm breath against her collarbone.

“Are you as tired of fighting as I am?” he murmurs. He looks up at her from where his head rested against her chest.

“Yes,” she answers honestly. It seemed that everything in her life was a fight, and she was very weary.

“Can I stay here?” Han asks. “Just for the night, Leia.”

A warning bell rings in her head, and she pulls away slightly.

“I don’t think that’s such a—”

“Just to sleep,” he clarifies, begging clear in his voice. “I can’t sleep anywhere else.”

Rey swallows. It’s a terrible idea. A stupid idea. Han’s eyes looking up at her are as bright as the starlight outside, but he does look as tired and worn as she feels, and she hears herself answering him.

“Okay.”

It’s a short walk to her twin bed, and she wonders how they’ll fit. She places her robe on a nail on the wall and listens as Han kicks off his boots and tosses his jacket into a corner of the room. He gets in first so he’s lying up against the wall, and suddenly she feels like a stranger in her own bed. He holds out a hand to her, and she takes it and climbs in after him.

Rey quickly discovers that Han is rather affectionate, though that just might be the alcohol. He wraps his arm around her waist, and she watches him smile at her in the moonlight that streams through her window.

“How come you look exactly like the day we met, and I look like an old man?”

“You are an old man,” she whispers. He snorts.

There’s a long silence, and Rey thinks he’s finally fallen asleep until he speaks up one more time.

“I love you,” he says.

“I know,” she says.

They sleep.


End file.
